


Luminous

by nerdygaycas



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chinese Translation Available, Dubious Consent, M/M, Percival's POV, Sex Addiction, that masterpiece starring fassbender's orgasm face, this is heavily inspired by shame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 16:47:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8852647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdygaycas/pseuds/nerdygaycas
Summary: Percival Graves tries to cope with his sex addiction as best as he can, but some days are just too difficult to get by.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Luminous 生命之光](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9709703) by [blakjc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakjc/pseuds/blakjc)



> sex addiction; a state characterized by compulsive participation or engagement in sexual activity, particularly sexual intercourse, despite negative consequences.  
>   
> Now there's a lot of controversy about this thing but for literary purposes just bear with me(;
> 
> Chinese translation by the lovely [blakjc ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakjc/pseuds/blakjc) can be found [ here ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9709703) and [here ](http://www.mtslash.org/thread-223714-1-1.html)

There’s a ticking noise inside his head, a continuous string, that alike time, doesn’t stop. It’s always there, wired like a bomb going backwards ready to explode. _He_ is.

Every day is a repetition of the day before, subtle differences allow him to bring his mind back to reality, but most days there’s only hunger. Insatiable hunger.

It’s always been that way for Percival. After so many years he’s learned to cope, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating. Any less shameful.

He goes about his daily routine the minute his alarm goes off: breakfast, porn, masturbation, shower. Some days he’ll change the order, to keep it interesting, but that’s the core of his mornings before he has to go work.

Percival dresses up in a suit as sharp as ever, fixes his hair the way he likes it and stares at his reflection on the mirror. A man, a normal man. At least that’s what his image says.

Too many things can be hidden behind a calm exterior.

The moment he’s out of the building cold wind bites at his skin, but he barely notices. His mind entertaining thoughts of naked bodies and high-pitched cries. It’s a good thing he opted for the long coat, it’s perfect to conceal the arousal that is starting to harden in his black cashmere pants.

A quarter to seven and the cars of the subway aren’t as crowded as they usually are. It’s a shame. He enjoys the pressing of strangers’ bodies against his own, imagines how they sound when they’re having sex, do they like it rough, or they prefer gentle lovemaking? Are they virgins or connoisseurs in the ways of love?

Today he sits down on an unoccupied plastic seat, briefcase over his lap. The swaying motion of the car as it rides reminds him of hips undulating over him, his cock buried to the hilt in warm heat, his hands gripping exhausted thighs, helping a faceless partner reach orgasm as he chases his own.

He doesn’t mean to, but his hips are tilting upward, desperate to grind against the curated leather of the case. Percival looks around for a beautiful face, someone to fuck inside his fevered mind on the way to the office, and stumbles upon a ravishing creature, a young man barely in his twenties.

His skin is pale, his hair as black as raven’s feathers, his lips pink and pouty. It’s the lips that attract him the most. He stares at the boy and he can see it so clear, the skin flushed red after being slapped, drool on his chin as Percival fucks his throat without a hint of mercy, his eyes wide as he struggles not to cough and throw up, and Percival yanks his hair, keeps the little slut exactly where he wants him to, and thrusts again and again, accelerating his pace, feeling the hums and sobs wrapping around his member, and he’s coming, hot gushes of semen shooting inside the boy’s mouth leaving him no choice but to swallow the hot viscous liquid.

When he opens his eyes the boy is staring back at him. The bright yellow of his jacket makes him stand out from the dull gray that surrounds him. His gaze is unwavering even when a blush starts to creep over his face.

Percival stares right back, undressing the young man with eyes full of lust. It’s refreshing meeting someone that won’t cower from the ardor in his gaze, someone who invites him rather than outright reject him. Most people can’t handle it, they don’t follow through with the game. Weak, scared, surprised, it makes no difference to Percival. He understands, he really does.

But he also knows himself, knows there’s a thirst inside his bones that won’t be quenched no matter how many strangers he fucks, how many mouths he kisses. It’s a burden that must be carried in the silence of darkness, for the shame of it is too much to endure in the light of day.    

The boy in the yellow jacket licks his lips, the gesture so subtle it could be interpreted as an attempt to moisturize their dryness, but Percival knows better. He’s an expert in this intricate game that is sexual desire. He’s the master.

He puts the briefcase on his side, and crosses his legs, eyes never leaving the young man in front of him. He sees it there, the hunger. It’s an infectious disease and the other has somehow caught it.

Percival raises his hand to the lower side of his face and strokes the stubble of his cheek, seemingly absentminded, but completely intentional. Meanwhile the boy tightens his lips in reflex pressing them into a fine line, yet Percival takes note of the slight breach between his legs growing wider.

The boy speaks his language, perhaps not as fluently but there’s potential in him, Percival recognizes.

They keep staring at each other, exchanging little gestures of hands, mouth, eyes… A noiseless, tactless affair unfolding across the streets of the city. An invisible thread entwines them, and Percival feels like another limb of that boy, an extension able to feel desire, agitation.

He wants to lick the boy’s neck, and whisper filth in his ear.  

The noise in the car seems to dissipate, and instead he’s provided with the overdriven beat of his own heart, the stream of boiling blood as it runs through his veins and sets in the curve of his cock, so hot it might burst anytime now.

Percival wants to palm his erection, circle the girth in his hand and jerk it roughly until he’s painting the boy’s face with his release, in plain sight of every passenger. But he can’t do that. Can’t stain innocent people with the mess that he is.

They play their lewd game for about ten minutes, and the intensity, the thrill of it, excites every fiber in Percival’s body.

His stop is the very next one, and he considers missing it, if only to keep the stranger amused, but he has an important meeting with the CEO of the company today. Unfortunately, debts and bills don’t pay themselves and so he stands from his seat, coat buttoned up and briefcase in hand, ready to step off the train and out into the streets of downtown Manhattan.

He glances back at the boy one last time, and nods as a way to say good-bye, but the boy remains impassive despite the blackness that has consumed the color in his eyes.

 

Percival arrives at his office on time, with still an hour left before the meeting. He could go through some delayed paperwork but the quiet encounter with the stranger on the train still has him sporting a boner. The choice is an easy one.

The walls are made of crystal but closing the blinds provides him with the privacy required for the task at hand. Then he locks the door and from a drawer produces a set of earphones that he connects to the computer.

Going through his history he clicks on a video starring a young man, much like the one on the train. He likes the slow pace of it, anticipation rising with every second that passes. On the screen the young man is on a date with another man, they’re enraptured with each other as they dine at a fancy restaurant, but soon the older man is reaching for the other’s thigh under the table, a dominating gesture that greatly excites the younger character. The scene cuts off shortly after to show a tense taxi ride where not even a single kiss is shared. Being porn there is not much poetry in the courting, but Percival’s brain can easily supply the finesse.

He unzips his pants and takes out his cock. It feels a bit tender to the touch from earlier ministrations, but Percival starts stroking the flesh all the same. On the video the younger man is positioned on all fours over a bed as the other man begins fucking him with a dildo. The squelching noises of ass and lube and silicone, draw globs of pre-cum out of Percival’s slit and he imagines it’s him doing the fucking to the boy on the train.

The boy moans like a wanton whore and begs for more, and the other man complies. The silicone toy is discarded on the floor as the man grips the other by the hips, and angles himself. With one hand he teases the dilated entrance and the boy cries _please_ , and with one swift thrust he buries the sizeable length inside the younger man’s ass.

Percival presses back against the headrest of his chair, body stretching, and closes his eyes. The sounds of a rough, wet fucking are driving him insane. He wants to be covered in gooey slick from a lover, to push them to their limit while keeping himself in control, to see them fall apart with each lunge of his dick inside them, to hold his hand around their throat and squeeze just enough to keep them lightheaded.

Percival comes with a gasp before the video is finished, cum spilling in pulsating jets over the dark fabrics of his clothes.

He stays there catching his breath and watches how the coupling unfolds on the screen. It shouldn’t excite him seeing as he just went through an orgasm himself, but it still does. Everything about sex fascinates him. It’s the only drug he can’t quit, and he’s tried them all, seeking to smother the lecherous demon that torments his every day. But none of them worked, so he’s stuck with the cheap pornography and the endless craving that just won’t go away.

He checks the time and realizes he has twenty minutes to compose himself into decency, and not have debauchery written all over his persona.   

“Fuck”

He keeps two changes of clothes in the office, in case anything like this happens, and is, once again, presentable in less than five minutes. He also keeps a bottle of perfume, a box of tissues, menthols, three condom packs including cherry-flavored ones, a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a blindfold. 

A colleague eyes him warily as he exits his office and locks the door, but she says nothing.

The meeting goes on for one hour and thirty-three minutes, and Percival feels like a lion trapped in a cage, displeased by the bars but smart enough not to chew on them knowing there’s no use in it.

His focus wanes and his eyes roam outside the room, and on to the blond secretary who wears heavy-rimmed glasses and a skirt two sizes too small, the fabric tight over her modest rear. He knows he shouldn’t stare at people with such coarseness, but it’s difficult not to, nearly impossible. Nevertheless, Percival redirects his attention to the man speaking before them and does his best to concentrate on the words and adhere some meaning to them.

 

It’s almost time to go home and a twinge of shame twists in his gut.

Going home means retracing his steps, walking down the same streets, waiting on the platform of 9th street at the same hour every day to take a train that will get him close home, and then give the final steps toward an empty apartment, save for his own presence and the oversexed moans from strangers on a screen.

Some nights he has company but he prefers keeping to himself these days, reluctant to cave in to his desires and catch something he might regret later.

He’s a lonely man. He eats alone, laughs alone, loves alone, sleeps alone.

Percival’s life is consumed by something he can’t really have, a certain ideal that his fingers won’t even graze. He wished his life was different, wished he wasn’t inclined to such depravity but what would he _be_ without it? Lust is the spine that keeps him from falling, even if it’s just a ramification of the abyss beneath his feet.

He prepares dinner for one, watches the news and then reads an erotic novel from beginning to end. Words are not enough to physically excite him but they do concoct interesting scenarios in his mind that he can’t simply ignore.

He jerks off in the shower before going to bed, images from the yellow-clad stranger pervading his hazy imagination. The water is warm as it descends on him, and his hand slides his length quicker, eyes screwed shut, a broken moan dying in his mouth. He leans his head on tiles that feel cool against his skin, and after a couple more tugs he’s coming for the third time today.

The orgasm knocks him out of his breath, he feels so heavy he considers he might faint, but he doesn’t. What he does is finish his shower, dry himself off, and put on a pair of clean trunks.

And this is his favorite part of the day. The moment he lays his head on the pillow and sleep pulls him into the reign of unconsciousness, where he’s free of sexual ardors and there’s no hunger to be satisfied.

 

Some nights Percival can’t sleep because there’s an urgency in his soul that refuses to be placated, and he hates himself for being like this. An itch prickles all over his heated body and he wants to peel off his skin using only his nails, to bleed out the corruption that so long has inhabited his half-living carcass.

Instead he puts on a pair of sweat pants and goes out for a jog in the early hours of morning, when the streets are less crowded. His feet carry him for an hour or two, enough to consume any drop of energy left, and then he goes back to his apartment falling straight into bed. 

If he’s lucky he’ll sleep through what’s left of the night.

 

He goes through a stagnant period in which no satisfaction reaches him, not even after he orgasms. It’s a dead, sordid sensation that does nothing to stop the looming hunger for more. At times he can’t keep from shedding bitter tears, as he furiously strokes his cock trying to extract pleasure from the increasing pain.

But it leaves him fidgety, and exhausted to the marrow. Everywhere he goes lustful thoughts accompany him, trailing behind like the shadow of death, a reaper that delights in stalking its victim.

Percival falters in his work, unable to concentrate on anything other than hot, wet, tight. The three words become his mantra and he wishes he could _get_ some, but none of the usual people he turns to for these things are available. Some are past that time of their life, and Percival wonders if he’ll ever find solace from himself.

 

A month goes by before Percival catches sight of the ‘train-boy’ again. He looks as striking as he did the first time, but he wears crimson red today. The color would match his lips like a dream were he kissed with passion.

It’s rush hour on a Saturday and there are many bodies squeezed together inside the car, the air is hot, the atmosphere is stifling, and Percival has nowhere to go to, not necessarily.

He hasn’t fucked anyone in about two months and with every day his senses become acuter, making him aware of every sight, smell, and sound that surrounds him. He can even taste through scent alone, and the tact… He’s always been awfully aware of that one, but adding the other four afflicts him, and hangs a murky cloud of anxiety above his shoulders.   

His two remaining playmates have told him they no longer wish to keep contact with him, and ever since Percival’s been looking for someone new to fill the void that threatens to cast its shade all over his life.

The boy seemed willing enough last time they met, and Percival hopes to find that fire still burning inside of him. He’d be more than happy to sate him, but he doesn’t excuse himself with false chivalry. What he longs for is his own release. He needs to bring back into his life some sense of balance, and only sex, hard and pure, can give him that.

And so Percival stares, expecting the intensity of his gaze is enough to capture the boy’s attention. After five minutes Percival is ready to make his way through the mob and shake the other man demandingly, even though he’s got no right to, but then the boy lifts his face and his eyes dart to where Percival is standing, identifying the man in an instant.

To his relief, Percival finds the fire hasn’t died. In fact, its flames seem to reach higher as the young man’s hand comes up to touch his ear and his pupils dilate.

Coy.

Percival smirks and knows the gesture will only kindle the boy’s underlying desire. His features are considered rather handsome by most people and this stranger doesn’t seem to be the exception, even as beautiful as he is.

The train approaches 34th station and Percival discreetly jerks his head in the direction of the door, and the boy nods in the same circumspect manner.

The doors open and people start filing out with that urgency that characterizes New Yorkers. Percival is out on the platform and, in all honesty, expects the boy to remain inside the safety of the train, far from his razor-sharp clutches, but then he sees a flash of red and there he is. The train boy looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

They start walking next to each other and it’s easy. God, it’s so easy.

Percival feels the thrill of anticipation pulsing steadily, he’s but a timer waiting to blow off.   

“What’s your name?” – his voice is raspy and low, a symptom of his disease taking over.

“Credence” – answers the train boy and the tiniest of smiles adorns his lips.

Percival wants to fuck it away and replace it with a wince, but he sets for a non-committal nod of acknowledgement.

“How old are you, Credence?”

They’re climbing up the stairs and into the streets. His place is only a couple of blocks away but the distance has never seemed as vast before.

“Nineteen, sir” – replies the boy as he quickens his step to catch up with Percival.

He likes how the three-lettered word sounds coming from Credence’s mouth. The boy’s a little younger than his usual conquests but still legal. It’ll have to do.

“I’m Percival Graves. Nice to meet you, Credence” – he stops to really look at, and slightly inspect, the young man and then shakes hands with him.

The boy stares at him as if he was a madman but Percival can’t find it in him to care the least bit. He’s restless, has been for too long, and the remedy is standing right in front of him, barely an inch taller and looking like an angel waiting to be fucked.

When they arrive at his place he senses Credence’s distress. As much as it excites him, he likes to think he’s above bastards that force themselves on others.

“Are you okay?”

Credence isn’t meeting his gaze, instead his eyes rummage over the concrete of the sidewalk and his stance hunches forward.

Percival lifts his face by placing two fingers on the boy’s chin and asks again, the tone of his voice inflexible.

“Are you okay?”

Credence nods and mumbles a ‘yes’ between his teeth.

Three stories up and Percival can’t wait any longer. He’s on the verge of madness, his arousal heavy and hot inside his pants and all over his body, making his hairs stand on edge.

As soon as they’re inside the apartment Percival presses Credence against the nearest wall and sucks at his neck wet kisses that make the boy squirm under his touch.

“You sure you want this, boy?” – it’s as if he’s breathing for the first time, the air filling his lungs and expanding them impossibly large inside his chest.

“Yes, yes, I am” – he’s too far gone and the fun hasn’t even begun.

Percival wonders if he’s a virgin and the sole idea sets loose the beast that inhabits his darkest crevices. It wants to rip, to shred, to destroy.

He cups the boy’s face and kisses those ample lips wanting to bruise them. He pushes his tongue inside Credence’s mouth and runs it over his palate, the little ridges melting under his touch.

And he needs more.

His hands abandon the face and start roaming the taut body. One settles on the dip of Credence’s waist while the other wanders to his ass giving it a firm squeeze. The boy is a wanton mess, breaths irregular and hips jerking up in the air.

Percival has never wanted to fuck anyone as badly as he does right now.

He all but rips the clothes off Credence leaving them pooled at his feet. If he was a conventional man, he’d take his time to appreciate the beauty of the creature before him but being whom he is, that can’t stop him.

He wraps his arms around the boy, and caresses the expanse of his back as best as he can in his deranged state. His lips settle on the juncture of shoulder and neck, and he bites. Hard.

“ _Ahh!_ ” – cries out the boy, no pleasure evident in the sound.

“Okay?” – Percival nibbles the spot gently, and reminds himself to go easy on the kid.

There’s apprehension in Credence’s eyes when he gapes at them, but the boy nods all the same and closes his eyes, readying himself for whatever pain that may befall him.

That’s all indication Percival needs and soon he’s tongue-fucking Credence’s mouth as he divests himself of all garment, amounting to the pile on the floor.

They stumble clumsily into Percival’s bedroom and the older man can feel something coil in the farthest depths of his soul. It happens every time he has sex, but today the shift is more powerful and it makes his heart skip several beats.

He’s a thousand feet above elation.

He watches his own movements with unnatural clarity, the way his hands explore the boy’s body and the exquisite way said boy shudders under his touch. A rosy blush is spreading over his chest now and Percival can’t help but notice how his delicate nipples blossom into perfectly round buds.

Instinctively his teeth go after one of them while a hand squeezes the other. Credence cries out once again, a sorry sound that the neighbors must’ve heard. Percival sighs contented and laps at the hardened nub moving to the other one to repeat the procedure.

Credence is incredibly responsive, every touch has him squirming and moaning like the virgin he probably is.

Percival retrieves a bottle of lube from the nightstand next to his bed and squeezes a generous amount on his hand, distributing it along the length of his cock as well as Credence’s, to ease the friction as they grind their erections together.

“Ahh, yes! Please, please, I need more” – the words hit Percival like a ton of merry bricks but he regains his sangfroid and allows his touches to go farther, deeper, harder.

He closes Credence’s legs and pushes his cock between them, the sensation similar to that of a hole stretching around him, but not the same at all; still, the smooth glide of in and out, stokes his primal need.

Fucking the boy is not an option anymore, he _has_ to do it.

“You clean?” – Percival doubts he’ll care either way, he’s losing his mind with every second he’s not pounding the boy’s ass.

Credence is wriggling beneath him, and avoiding his gaze once more, a bad habit Percival is sure he could help get rid of. For the moment he lets the weight of his hand set heavily around the boy’s neck, a warning.

“I’ve never… you know” – comes the answer, it’s tinged with shame.

Percival has hit the golden jackpot. With little guidance Credence could become a faithful and skilled lover, ready to satisfy his partner’s every command and anticipate his needs like a good boy.

He wants to _groom_ him.

Percival sits on his haunches and looks down at the lean body posed at irregular angles. The boy’s cock curves proudly against the lower portion of his belly, his eyes are hooded due to desire. There’s a tacit demand written all over him, visible only to those learned in the ways of sexual hedonism.

“I’m going to fuck you now, Credence” – it’s not a question, but a factual declaration.

He only sees acceptance on the boy’s semblance, like he had prepared for this exact moment since that first time they saw each other in the train and he licked his lips, parted his legs. He’d been waiting so long to get fucked, and Percival’s only aim runs straight through the valleys and hills that conform Credence.

He should be more cautious but two months of abstinence can drive any man insane, and Percival needs to feel the raw pleasure of having his cock buried inside a tight virgin hole.

He suddenly remembers his self-made promise to not be too rough on the kid and orders him to get on all fours. Credence does as he’s told, his movements graceful, and the concave curve his spine draws pushes the mounds of his ass closer to the man behind him.

Percival grabs both ample cheeks on his hands and spreads them to reveal the tiny puckered hole between them. From his throat comes a guttural sound.

“Shit, boy. Gonna fuck you so hard, gonna fuck this pretty little hole of yours. You want that, hmm?”

“Y-yes” – it’s barely a word, but it’s abundant in its meaning.

Percival produces more lube from the bottle and slathers it over the boy’s entrance, massaging the muscle with circular motions of his thumb. Slowly it starts opening up and it makes him think of flowers flourishing in the springtime.

Once the bundle of tissues is pliant enough, Percival pushes the digit inside and Credence shrieks into the bedsheet. Percival replaces his thumb with two fingers and scissors them, occasionally curling them in his direction and, in consequence, tugging at the rim.

Incoherent words tumble out of Credence’s mouth, but Percival pays him no mind.

The boy submits and arches his spine even more, raising his ass in the process. Percival slaps the flesh presented so lasciviously at him and tires of prepping the boy. His mouth is watering at the sight of the fluttering hole but there’s quite literally something he needs to get out of his system, and it’s been delayed for far too long.

The hunger, the thirst, has him clinging for dear life on Credence’s hips as he positions himself and presses the head of his cock into the boy’s asshole.

The channel stretches to accommodate the thickness of the member; hot, wet walls clench around him and soon he’s fully sheathed in that most intimate embrace. It feels like paradise, like coming home after rambling all over the world. There’s no room for wiggle so he bides his time, and bites the inside of his cheek as he waits for the boy to relax.

Judging by the whizzing of his breath, Credence is struggling with the obtrusion. Instead of loosening up he’s doing the very opposite. Percival’s cock is being milked vehemently and the feeling is leaning on the side of pain, however, he’s not one to shy away from different sensations and revels in the moment.

Draping his body over the boy’s is the only solution his ragged brain can provide. He’s not usually one for sweet talk but he can’t ignore this is Credence’s first time, and he must be good to the boy, gain his trust, his devotion and keep him coming back for more.

“Shhh” - he whispers in the boy’s ears, there are tears falling from his eyes.

The sound of his voice seems to have a calming effect on Credence. Percival knows this because the tightness around his cock subsides, if only a little, but it’s something.

“You okay, baby?” – Percival asks as he kisses the boy’s shoulder with tenderness. He wants to be _good_ to this boy, and so lust budges to give room for concern.

Credence is sobbing softly but he smiles at Percival nonetheless.

“Yes, sir. But… I can’t- I can’t do it. It’s too big, it hurts”

Ah, to be young and inexperienced.

Percival knows all too well that it _is_ big, and right now, it _must_ hurt, but that’s not really an impediment for their little afternoon delight. If anything Credence should be grateful to lose his virginity to a cock like Percival’s, more than adequate in both length and girth, but of course that’s of little to no importance to the boy right now.

“Yes, you can, Credence. You’re doing so well for me” – he can feel the hole unclenching to a reasonable stretch and drags his hips back so very slowly the boy beneath him doesn’t even notice.

“I can’t, sir” – repeats Credence shaking his head, eyes full of guilt.

He’s such a tame creature Percival wants to push him to his limits to see how he’d react, but that will have to wait. As of right now Credence needs to feel safe.

“You’re doing it already, baby, don’t you see?” – his hips are coming back down, and they slam against the swell of Credence’s ass.

The boy moans and shuts his eyes the moment Percival buries himself to the hilt once more. But then Percival repeats the motion, dragging back and slamming back in, each time more forceful and soon Credence is moving in tandem with him.

“Easy, right?” – he’s keeping the monster at bay, he doesn’t want to hurt Credence but the filth of his soul has started to leak from his cock, his hips accelerating with every renewed thrust.

“Y-yes”

Credence is moaning better than any porno performer Percival has ever seen; the long sounds floating in the room and curling around Percival’s body like fog in a cold morning.

Percival grabs Credence by his shoulders to get some leverage and rams his cock inside the hole with all his might causing the boy to lose his balance and lunge forward on the bed. His whimpers get louder but he doesn’t ask Percival to stop.

“You like that, boy, hmm? You like getting fucked rough up the ass?”

At the lack of response Percival decides to push harder. He gets back on his knees and yanks the boy by a tuft of black hair. The shift in the angle has him hitting that special gland and Credence screams loud enough for the whole block to hear. Percival feels he might explode of happiness.

Credence meets his hips halfway, never faltering to recapture the length inside of him.

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?”

If he doesn’t do something more forceful his question will go unanswered, and he doesn’t want that. What Percival wants is to corrupt Credence, and to have him admit it by embracing his whorish side. So Percival slithers his hand down the boy’s flank and envelops his cock in his fist giving it a harsh tug.

“You will answer when questioned. Clear?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, sir”

“Are you greedy, Credence?” – he enjoys the deeper shade the boy’s cheeks are turning to.

Fucking himself on a cock like a slut with so much ease, and he still plays the blushing virgin card.

“Yes, sir”

“Mmm, wish you could see this, baby. Your hole’s so hungry it keeps pulling my cock right back in” – and it is true, there’s something hypnotic about the way their bodies move back and forth, a filthy lullaby set into action.

The boy is reduced to panting, his torso twisted trying to catch a glance at Percival’s face and he just… takes it. Only when the older man starts drilling that sensitive spot inside of him does his face contort into a blissful wince; his mouth opens to let out high-pitched moans, and he closes his eyes abandoning himself to pleasure, vulnerable at the man’s will.

Percival wishes he could find a loop in time and hide there for all eternity with Credence hanging by his cock, but it’s just wishful thinking. He knows he can’t control himself much longer, what his body is begging is release; he needs to paint the boy’s walls with his seed. In his mind he’s possessing the kid, and coming inside of him is the final step before rightfully claiming him as his own.

The air is packed with pheromones and the heady scent of sex, and Percival gives free reign to the beast that lives within him. Not without some horror, he sees himself pounding inside Credence at a punishing speed, the tip of his cock brushing the gland every single time, and he can feel the boy coming over the sheets, feels it in the way the hole clasps around him; but he can’t stop right now.

After a few more thrusts he can feel his balls tightening, and the hunger subsides having being fed by the heat irradiating from the boy, and the thirst… That one he quenches when he reaches his climax, and hot semen gushes out flooding Credence’s ass.

Coming down from his high Percival notices angry red marks all over the boy’s milky back, and even if he can’t remember his fingers dragging over the skin, he feels the ghost of it beneath his fingernails. God knows it’s not the first time he loses himself when fucking, and it’s certainly not the worst he’s done either.

 

Sated and content Percival can think clearer now. He can look at Credence and actually _see_ Credence, not just a chaste body waiting to be defiled.

He strokes the small of the boy’s back as he pulls out from the ravished hole, ache visible on his lover’s countenance. He should’ve kept it dull.

“Hey, baby”

Percival lies next to Credence, their bodies, sweaty and fatigued, face each other curled like parentheses, and Percival raises his hand to pet the boy’s cheek, his thumb pressed against Credence’s lower lip.

The smile the boy draws is wane but Percival hasn’t seen anything more beautiful in months, and he wants to capture the moment and commit it to memory, safely tucked away for the nights when the vacant space on his bed becomes too big.

“You’re a very good boy, Credence”

The boy shakes his head bashfully and has to clear his throat before uttering a word, his throat abused from all the yelling and the moaning.

“Thank you, sir”

Percival is eager to bask in the afterglow but first he dries off sticky cum from Credence’s belly with a wet rag. As for the seed that trickles down the boy’s puffy hole, he collects it with his tongue and pushes the deft muscle into the supple ring in an attempt to further humiliate and please Credence.

It seems to work because Credence’s legs open wider, and a litany of ‘no’ and ‘please’ cascades from his lips.

For now, though, Percival wants to feel like a regular man and that means withdrawing his lewd kisses, and sticking to the innocent bliss of lying on the bed holding the boy in his arms. He doesn’t like to call this by its name; ‘cuddle’ seems too silly a word for the immense comfort the action can provide. The warmth of naked skin molded together is, to this day, the most effective narcotic to blur out his cravings.

He lies next to Credence and turns the boy around so he’s facing the other side, and slots his body against his from head to toe, back pressed to his chest, and inhales the muskiness from the boy’s flesh. The smell washes over him, filling every single one of his nooks and gluing back together the pieces that shattered when he reached his apex.

Closing on a high note would entail drifting off, but the awkward stiffness of the frame circled in his arms makes it impossible to properly unwind. It occurs to him that this type of intimacy frightens the boy much more than sex, and the idea is so persistent he can’t keep his curiosity to himself.

He props himself on one elbow and inspects the boy’s face.

“Why did you come with me, Credence?”

The boy shrugs seemingly unfazed but he tucks his chin. Percival isn’t bragging when he calls himself a skilled body language interpreter. A talent granted to him upon birth or born from his perversion, the fact remains that he can read Credence like an open book. His pages are faded, some of them even torn.

The boy is seeking acceptance, blind to who will give it to him. He’s obviously insecure and Percival knows he’s got self-esteem issues, probably caused by someone who wouldn’t accept him, someone who kept belittling him and led him to believe himself unworthy of attention, of love.

“Well, I’m glad you did. You’re a thing of beauty when you’re writhing on the bed, and moaning like a fucking star, Credence”

The praise helps boost the boy’s confidence, his body loosening against Percival’s. He doesn’t speak, not yet, but he’s glowing in the soft evening light, a strand of hair falling over his eyes.

Their lips meet in an unhurried sway, much like butter spread on a toast. There’s no rush, no frenzy, only the soft glide of skin as they try to drink each other up.

It’s been a while since Percival did this. His partners weren’t enthusiastic about idling around after making out, so this is sort of a novelty for him. He likes the languid pace at which they move, the labored breathing that wells in his ears, the curve of Credence’s hip under his open palm.

Even stranger is stopping the kiss to stare at dark eyes, looking for anything that’ll give away the reason for the boy’s self-woven dysphoria.

Credence seems to pick up on his concern, and sighs.

“It’s… No one’s looked at me the way you did.”

“I doubt so, very much. Besides one does not go around sleeping with strangers just because they make bedroom eyes at you” – now that is a blatant lie, at least for him. Most people do not follow through, and they certainly wouldn’t let themselves be fucked senseless.

Percival caresses the boy’s cheek and makes a mental note to repeat the gesture once he has his cock deep inside Credence’s mouth, balls brushing his chin.

“I mean… no man has looked at me like that. Ma says it’s not okay to want this, especially with people of the same sex”

“A bigoted bitch, you mean?”

Credence’s brows shoot up in surprise, and Percival chuckles. He wishes he could fall in love.

“Look, just because homophobia is her poison, doesn’t mean it has to be yours as well. People complain too much about shit they don’t understand. Don’t let it upset you”

Credence blinks owlishly and slithers closer, burying his nose on Percival’s chest.

“Thank you” – he whispers.

And that’s the last thing that’s said before they both fall into the complacent arms of post-coital slumber.

 

Later on, as they lie awake in bed Percival admires the youthful frame next to his more weathered one. There’s a softness to his sharp lines, a type of fragility that could easily be bent, broken.

His eyes land on the boy’s inner thigh, which, if he’s being honest, could do with some hickeys. The purple of the bruises would complement the ivory meadow that is his skin. Percival wants to get on his knees and have the boy harden inside his mouth, to feel the tangy taste of freshly milked cum on his tongue. His drifting thoughts begin to stir desire and once again he’s cooped up inside his own prison.

Credence is still worn out by the previous fucking but Percival can make this easy on him, he could stay right there, splayed over the sheets, and let him do all the work. There’s dominance in being able to snap someone’s virtue using only his mouth, and Credence has still so much inside him to be corrupted.   

“What are you doing?” – asks Credence by the time Percival is kneeled on the bed at his feet.

“I need to suck you off”

The worst part is that the statement is actually true. Lust has risen, imminent and imposing, as it usually does, and Percival has no authority over his actions. He can’t even understand what’s happening around him, doesn’t register the confusion on the boy’s face. All that is real is the thirst in his mouth, the need to drink down that potion brewed from longing and distilled by pleasure that will surely come out of the boy’s dick.

Percival lowers his head and wraps his lips around the member, soft and slightly salty, and runs his tongue all over the underside of it. There are hands in his hair though they do not pull.

“Sir, I don’t think I can do it again” – says the boy not a little dejected.

To shush him Percival hums around the shaft, the sound vibrating on his throat which carries the buzz to Credence’s groin, curling at the base where blood is already starting to flow, and thickening his sex.

Percival continues his attentions, reduced to a cock-starved pair of lips. He feels the grip on his hair tightening when he tongues the slit of the now fully erect shaft, and takes it as his cue to suck harder, to swallow more of the length inside his mouth, and moan around it as he hollows his cheeks.

Spit gathers at the corners of his mouth and begins to dribble down as Credence starts rocking his hips shy at first, but harder as confidence sets in. And it’s beautiful. Breathtaking, literally.

Percival revels in the near gasping sensation as the tip hits the fragile region behind his tongue, and lets out a long breath relaxing the muscles of his mouth, allowing more of Credence to delve inside without making him gag. He’s been throat-fucked before, by a man with a cock similar in length to his own but thinner; the experience was mind-clogging and he’d choked most of the time but it’s still one of the most pleasant memories he keeps.

The boy won’t resist much longer. His cock is oversensitive and the trace of pain mingled with pleasure still makes his hole squeeze around empty nothingness, it doesn’t help that this may well be the first time he’s on the receiving end of fellatio.

Percival is rock hard by now, wanting nothing else but to fuck Credence’s tight little ass again, but he promised himself he’d be good, gentle.

He starts sucking more avidly, like he means it, like he wants to drain the entirety of the world through Credence’s cock.

The sheets are rumpled there were he’s kneeling and under Credence’s shaking figure as he plants the soles of his feet on the mattress to gain some stability. The boy’s folded legs flutter as butterflies’ wings and Percival decides it’s time to take it up a notch, so he cups the boy’s balls in his hand and fondles them between his fingers, careful not to apply too much pressure or rub them the wrong way; he’s been on _that_ side of the spectrum and it’s not what he considers pleasant.

“Sir… _Percival_ , stop. I can’t hold it inside. Please” – the last word is dragged on and turns into a pitiful whimper that only serves to fuel Percival’s intent.

He wraps his hand around the shaft and focuses on the bulbous head, lapping at the pre-cum that oozes from the slit. His fist quickens and so does the sucking motion of his mouth, and then a strangled yelp is raining down on him, humid and asphyxiating, as he feels his surroundings expanding in every direction, all sound evaporates into a void; then there’s the shift of Credence’s bones, the arch of his back, a ripping sound as something falls, his throat constricts and suddenly hot liquid is running down his pipe, his eyes water, and the bubble that smothers him bursts loudly like a balloon.

All in the fraction of seconds.  

Credence is panting and looks frightened by what just transpired. That trace of fear deprives Percival of having the favor returned. It’s a shame not being able to fulfill that fantasy he had when he first flayed the boy with his gaze in the subway, but he’s patient, he’s learned the art of taking advantage of every waking minute.

He sits back on his heels and strokes his cock hazily as a melody plays inside his mind, a calming tune made out of delicate notes that starts slow, fragile, but that gradually surges into an overwhelming crescendo, vibrating in his eardrums, and evoking images from a time when things were easier; when he was only six or seven years old and there wasn’t a care in the world, except the sun shining dimly above him and the gentle aura of a lazy summer afternoon enveloping him in its breeze.

The scent of sex anchors him back to the present and Percival sees ropes of whitish fluid embellishing Credence’s belly and chest, and it makes him… happy. It’s as if he’s looking through a window, only a bystander and not really a participant, he’s being detached from his own climax but somehow this quiet orgasm that doesn’t quite belong to him, manages to make the beast acquiesce in his will.

It’s an unexpected treat, this mute euphoria that percolates through his pores, and differs from the temporary cloud of foggy warmth that usually follows his orgasms. This, whatever this is, is much more liberating at the time it also shackles him, because now he’s a servant to this newfound freedom, and he has no idea how to acquire it the moment it dissipates.

Percival knows Credence isn’t in a good place right now, that’s he’s only a kid wanting to be accepted at any cost, but he cannot let the delicate creature go away in spite of his ill-intentions. How wonderful would it be to always have him at his disposal, to make him active subject of his wildest fantasies, to not live in isolation anymore because of his depravity?

In a way, he’s seeking acceptance too.

“Stay”

It’s a plead he throws up in the air waiting the other will catch it, keep it.

The clever side of Credence hesitates to give an answer, if there’s one expected, he doesn’t know. But Percival can pinpoint the exact instant in which the gears break, the moment the boy decides that yes, he wants to belong to Percival, wants to know love like he hasn’t before in his life.

And it’s nice. To have someone trust themselves with him that way. He’s a wreckage of a man, true, but he’s still human.

 

Over the subsequent months, Percival has a warm body to come home to, and the need to resort to dingy alleyways and dubious clubs is a thing of the past that he can’t quite let go, or maybe doesn’t want to let go of, so he coaxes Credence to join him in a myriad of places, any time the throb of want becomes a fierce beast lacerating his guts.

In fact, he persuades Credence to do a great deal of things a good boy like him would never even think of on his own, but every time Percival convinces him that he’s doing the right thing by showering him with endless praises and thoughtful gifts.

Thus he ensures the boy’s loyalty, and fucks him raw and dirty and unashamed.

Percival doesn’t find an antidote against his deviance, but Credence is the best next thing there is. A lifeline that preserves what’s left of his sanity that he simply can’t relinquish, even when he’s aware their relationship is merely a satirization of love.

A sick co-dependency.

Credence isn’t happy and _he_ will never be happy, but what they’ve got is enough to get them through the day.

And so, every night Percival finds the pinnacle of humanity as he comes violently inside Credence, and it’s not love as most people want to believe.

It’s acceptance.

**Author's Note:**

> title of the fic is inspired on a piece by max richter named 'luminous' and it's just too beautiful, go check it out! (yes, i was listening to it when writing graves' otherworldly orgasm xD)  
> leave me comments telling me how you feel about hypersexed graves, i'll be more than happy to discuss headcanons :D  
> also i just want to shamelessly promote my own sexy gradence playlist but idk bc it's not 100% finished yet e.e  
> love you all, xx
> 
> Follow me on tumblr: [ elvishflower ](http://elvishflower.tumblr.com/)


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